


Lambda Two

by phenoob



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, Ghosts, Holodecks/Holosuites, Implied Sexual Content, Original Species, Pre-Femslash, Slow Build, Slow Burn, crack that got carried away basically, silly programming jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phenoob/pseuds/phenoob
Summary: Seven obtains access to the abandoned holonovel Janeway Lambda One, just before anaphasic lifeforms begin threatening Voyager.
Relationships: Harry Kim/Lord Burleigh, Kathryn Janeway & Seven of Nine, Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine, Lucille Davenport/Mrs. Templeton
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what I'm doing lol. 2nd chapter coming soon.
> 
> Edit: now that this is complete, a couple disclaimers:  
> \- I did not in fact know what I was doing, as this was my first attempt at a serial story and therefore a bit of a learning experience at the audience's expense. I might smooth out the kinks later but probably not. i hope someone enjoys anyway, but beware of some stylistic inconsistency, weird pacing, etc etc.
> 
> \- the motivation behind this was to combine references to the 2 most hated story premises from voyager and tng, as an experiment. Make of that what you will.
> 
> \- the platonic ship tag being first is meant to indicate that the main romance isn't established over the course of this fic, just hinted at for later. the only ships established are crack.

Janeway sat alone at her table in the mess hall, idly scanning a report for the third time. 4 P.M. wasn't a crowded hour, and even Neelix seemed content to leave his few patrons to their coffee and superfluous paperwork. Things were quiet lately. Too quiet for Janeway's taste. Seven complained of the same predicament, so Janeway had given her access to her collection of cast-off holographic programs that morning, though she didn't really expect her to take advantage of it.

And here she was now.

Seven found Janeway immediately--located by computer again, no doubt--and approached her table, sitting across from her by way of a greeting.

"I have started one of the holographic programs from your file."

"Oh? Which one?"

"Lambda One."

Oh. That was a wrong answer if she'd ever heard one. Janeway had done her best to forget about that program--done too well, it seemed, if she never thought to restrict Seven's access.

"You asked me to offer my opinion," Seven added. Janeway realized she had been silent a little too long for the expectant protegé. She tried not to show how awkward the situation had become.

"I suppose I did. Well." She gestured airily. "Be brutally honest."

"I will." As always, the words carried neither affectation nor malice. "I do not consider Lord Burleigh the optimal choice for leading the manor. The housekeeper has demonstrated greater aptitude, and has already implied that she disregards the chain of command without consequence."

Not the topic of inquiry Janeway expected, and a welcome one for that.

"Found a kindred spirit, have we? Seven, you know your Earth history. 19th century England wasn't exactly meritocratic."

"That is what I fail to understand. Most humans are ashamed of the their planet's history, for its inefficient social hierarchies. What is gained by reconstructing an inferior stage of their development?"

It was a good question. Janeway tried to find the words least likely to provoke another debate.

"I think the key is that we control what we simulate, and when, while we can't control history itself. Being Lucy Davenport limits my status, and my opportunities. But I know I can always say `Computer, end program' and go back to being a starship captain. The real ancient humans didn't have that option. Perhaps some see it as a reminder of how far we've come."

Feeling more than a bit ridiculous for offering lofty words in defense of Lambda One, she added, "But anyway, this program is pure fiction. No need to take it that seriously."

"I see."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. When Mrs. Templeton asks me if I prefer one lump of sugar or two, she accepts any intermediate floating-point number as a valid response, and the resulting behaviour leads me to believe this was not intentional. Irrational numbers, such as Tau, cause her main linguistic subroutine to freeze."

Janeway had to quip at that, having failed to suppress a chuckle at the mental image. "If you ask Neelix for 'Tau' lumps of sugar, don't be surprised if his main linguistic subroutine freezes, too."

Seven's face somehow went even more blank. She was a tough crowd when it came to humour.

"Seven, I hadn't planned to share this program with others. You'll probably be disappointed with how the AI performs off-script. You're welcome to try something else."

"I will continue until I have observed enough of Lambda One to make an accurate assessment of its quality."

It was worth a try. Seven would never give up when her mind was set.

"If you insist." Janeway judged that to be a good lead into the dreaded question. "How much have you 'observed' so far?"

"The first scene."

Strange, but a relief. The first scene's highlight was a two-minute conversation with the housekeeper, if memory served. No romance. Well, none that she knew of, anyway.

Janeway's communicator beeped.

"Bridge to Janeway." It was Chakotay. "We've sighted a nebula that you might want to see." On uneventful days like these, Chakotay seemed to think every passing nebula was worthy of the captain's attention, but well. He was right.

"On my way."

Janeway switched off her padd and looked back to Seven. "Duty calls. I look forward to your next bug report," she said, affording her usual smile and pat on the shoulder as she got up.

At least Seven's piecemeal approach to the novel bought Janeway some time to make certain adjustments, for her privacy's sake if nothing else. She made a mental note to head straight for holodeck controls at the end of her shift. But first, the nebula.


	2. Chapter 2

"Computer, access program Janeway Lambda One."

The holonovel was a relic of the early days, when the crew's homesickness weighed heavily on Janeway's conscience. She'd kept the junior officers at arm's length then, spending her downtime alone with what she would now be the first to admit was pure escapist drivel.

If the shame of hindsight wasn't enough to keep the program buried, that incident with the Bothan ambassador was. The whole crew, held captive by ghastly visions from the subconscious. Lambda One had had the misfortune of occupying Janeway's recent memories that day.

Templeton was one thing. No one wants to find their own made-to-order antagonist brandishing a knife at their doorstep, and she had seemed so *real*, but at least her particular brand of terror had been easy to dismiss when it was all over--Janeway had even told Chakotay about it, and they'd joked that the Bothan put on a cheap scare.

Lord Burleigh, on the other hand ... the Bothan had chosen him to be the subject of some begrudgingly effective guilt-tripping from a vision of Mark. The guilt in the depths of her mind was irrational, even shameful, and that telepathic attack had wrenched it to the surface. Janeway was not one to let go of moral indignation easily. The thought of her whole crew being subjected to similar invasions was what really turned her stomach, and somehow Burleigh--unlucky bastard--was the easiest target for her disgust.

He had to be sanitized somehow. It was too late to remove him without Seven catching on. Janeway could do without an interrogation into the fine points of holographic romance.

"Display the character Lord Burleigh."

The visual parameters can stay, Janeway thought. She honestly couldn't see the appeal anymore. Especially not in those mutton chops.

"Access interactive subroutines. Select everything to do with romance."

"Specify."

"Anything presupposing his romantic attraction to Lucy Davenport. Behavioural patterns, speech. Fixed narrative elements."

"Selected."

"Delete it."

She spat the words so triumphantly that she half expected the display to vanish, too, but there he stood as if he hadn't just been lobotomized.

"Close display. Computer, how much of his data did you delete?"

"Approximately fifty-five percent of fixed dialogue, seventy percent of behavioural subroutines, five of ten scene appearances, seven of--"

"Enough." This wouldn't do. Even Seven's no-stone-unturned approach wouldn't give her time to rewrite all that. "Computer. Could you generate...something...to fill the gaps in Lord Burleigh's character profile?"

Thinking out loud more than anything else, she knew the computer's response already.

"Specify."

"You have access to Gothic novels, and other fiction, in the literary database."

"Affirmative."

"And you can synthesize these to generate a new novel, an imitation of the genre? And adapt that to a holographic simulation?"

"That is correct."

"Could you use the same procedure to make additions to Lambda One?"

"Specify."

"Restoring Lord Burleigh's data to the same level of complexity before my last change. Without adding any romantic attraction to Davenport."

"The result of specified additions would be inconsistent."

"Explain."

"In stories matching specified literary data and the parameters of Janeway Lambda One the only plausible role of character Lord Burleigh is a romantic interest to the protagonist."

The computer was really rubbing it in. "Then can you modify the story parameters, just enough to fit my constraint?"

"Working." Fingers crossed. "Affirmative. Requested modifications have a high probability of introducing the following errors: anachronism, narrative inconsistency, technical faults."

Technical faults? Seven would have a field day with that.

"Backing up the program is recommended," the computer pressed on.

Janeway figured it was good enough. "No backup. Make the modifications."

"Working. Modifications complete."

Whatever strange things lurked inside Lambda One now, Janeway was confident they were an improvement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First sequence takes place before chapter 1, where I meant to attach it at the beginning but was a potato. excuse the canon dialogue (with adjustments).

"My job is to make sure that this household runs smoothly. I have been with Lord Burleigh for nearly twenty years because this household runs smoothly. He has come to trust me ..."

Seven gathered this small speech was hard-wired in the program, since nothing in particular had provoked it.

"... and I will not brook any behaviour that might jeopardize that trust, so you will be expected to follow the rules that I have set down," Mrs. Templeton concluded.

Rules again. Contrary to Captain Janeway's belief, Seven had no particular disdain for rules, only the unjustified ones. But perhaps it was best to make that position clear to the housekeeper.

"I have no desire to disrupt this manor's command structure. If I act against regulations, I will do so because they are flawed, or counterproductive."

"It would be wise not to act against them at all. You do not want me as your enemy." Seven agreed--this was a woman she preferred not to antagonize--but the warning meant she took Seven's words the wrong way, as people often did.

"I was not implying that I doubt your ability to command," Seven explained. "You could not have mobilized an archaic household unit to the level of efficiency I observed during the tour, if you were not exceptionally intelligent. My personal conduct is unlikely to make you my enemy."

Templeton arched an eyebrow. It didn't make her any easier to read.

"And flattery is unlikely to earn you lenience, Mrs. Davenport," she said after a considerable pause.

This was a difficult program.

"Lord Burleigh will be here directly." Templeton paused on her way out, giving Seven a sidelong look from head to toe. "You dress rather immodestly for a governess."

And then she was gone.

Seven didn't know what challenges awaited, but knowing Janeway, she would probably need allies, trust, cooperation--all the advantages a bad first impression could spoil. This was not optimal.

"Computer. Rewind program by two minutes."

\---

Thorough testing of Scene One had led Seven to two conclusions. One, the captain didn't care for robust subroutines--Seven was logging all the errors she found, in case Janeway was interested. Two, leaving a good first impression on Mrs. Templeton was not difficult, but impossible. The program would proceed.

Seven regarded the stormy landscape outside. Was there collision, or was it merely visual? She took an empty cup from the table and unlocked the window, ready to test her query, when something caught her eye in the reflection. A portrait luminesced. Then there was a hand on her shoulder.

Most of Seven's experience on the holodeck was with sports and combat simulations, and her reflexes were acute. She grasped the humanoid intruder by the elbow, sending them sprawling to the floor in one quick move. She turned. A man in period-appropriate clothing looked up at her, dazed.

 _Lord Burleigh will be here directly,_ Seven belatedly recalled Templeton saying.

"Are you damaged?"

"No, no ... just a bit shaken. I shouldn't have startled you. Forgive me."

Just moments ago, Seven had begrudgingly come to terms with a no-win social scenario. Only to attack Burleigh on sight, and have him politely apologize for it.

It was frustratingly inconsistent. She would bring the issue to Janeway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case the premise isn't enough to declare this a load of Crack, the mention of 'anaphasic lifeform' should be...also I can't technobabble, pls help.

Tension was palpable in the board room, and Janeway was certain all the senior officers were thinking the same thing: had that last nebula finally put an end to Voyager's long break from mortal danger?

"When we cleared the nebula, sensors detected traces of anaphasic radiation passing through one of our power transfer conduits, consistent with the residue left by anaphasic lifeforms," Tuvok said.

Anaphasic lifeforms. Janeway recalled some brief mentions of them at the odd scientific conference back in the Alpha Quadrant, but no substantial empirical research--they were too rare for that. The only report that stood out in her memory was from the Enterprise-D. Much of the data from that incident had been expunged from public records. But the rumours ... she had a hard time believing they were anything but fictitious. And even then, someone on the Federation flagship had to have thought them up, which was nearly as disturbing.

"If the anaphasic lifeforms here are at all like the ones in the Alpha quadrant, they're all but invisible to our sensors, except for the traces they leave in transit, and they could be a serious cognitohazard. Mind control, emotional manipulation, that sort of thing," Janeway offered, mostly so nobody would have to ask. It was an obscure topic. "Do the sensors detect anything on board now, Tuvok?"

"Negative, captain. It is possible that the reading was caused by a sensor malfunction. However, an anaphasic intruder could pose a unique threat to Voyager due to our bioneural circuitry. It may be capable of altering the ship's functions, not only the mental states of the crew. I would recommend doubling security around vital systems and habitation areas until we have determined more accurately whether an intruder is present."

"Agreed. Do it. B'Elanna, would it be possible for you to recalibrate our internal sensors to pick up smaller traces of anaphasic radiation?"

"I think so, but it's possible that traces aboard Voyager would still be undetectable, based on the size of the ones in the sensor log."

"But it has a chance to confirm our suspicions, at least. And Doctor, I'd like you to research the neurological effects of contact with anaphasic lifeforms, see if you can come up with a preventative measure."

The door hissed. Seven came in, stopping a few feet from the captain. So she didn't need to be dragged to the board room after all.

"Seven. You're late. We were discussing the possibility of an anaphasic lifeform on board, and thought perhaps you might have more experience with those species native to the Delta Quadrant."

Janeway pushed back a chair, but Seven didn't seem to get the message.

"The Borg have recorded four sentient anaphasic species," Seven said, inadvertently pushing the chair back against the table. "One, Species 462, resides in this quadrant. I predict that the sensors malfunctioned. It would be atypical for species 462 to seek refuge on Voyager."

"Why is that?"

"Species 462 reproduces through a mental link with one or more material organisms. This is almost impossible unless the organisms associate strong emotions with the lifeform, such as fear or reverence towards what they percieve to be a supernatural entity. Therefore, Species 462 is attracted to scientifically undeveloped settlements, or those where superstition is a cultural norm."

"Neither of which applies to Voyager, you're saying. Good." Coming from Seven, it was a worthy compliment. "B'Elanna, get to work on those sensors. I'll be in Main Engineering to check on your findings at 1500. We should also run a random diagnostic of the gel packs on each deck. Let's not go to Yellow Alert unless we find solid evidence of an intruder on board, but keep an eye out for any unusual behaviour--from the crew, or from Voyager. Dismissed."

\---

Janeway somehow knew who was there when she heard the hiss of the ready room door.

"Seven. Something on your mind?"

"I have sent a log of technical errors I discovered in Lambda One to your terminal. You told me you would look forward to another report."

"I did? Oh, right. I might have time to take a look once I have the results of those gel pack diagnostics."

"Did the sensors reveal a lifeform?"

"No, not yet, but we'll keep doing sensor sweeps for the next few days." Janeway was a little surprised by Seven's apparent willingness to change the subject, which made her next question all the more alarming.

"What is the purpose of Lord Burleigh's romantic subroutine?"

It took all Janeway's effort to keep her jaw from dropping. There was no way there was anything left of the romance after her butchering of the program. Had she saved a backup accidentally? Had Seven found some way to restore the program to an earlier state?

"What subroutine?" she managed.

"Ensign Kim accompanied me the last time I ran the program. He and Burleigh had a conversation that Kim later referred to as 'flirting.' Kim also believes that this occurrence is exclusive to the character's interactions with males. But if you originally had no intention of sharing Lambda One, then these subroutines would necessarily remain unused."

Oh. Of course. Janeway's thoughts picked up their pace, and she felt increasingly thick-headed as everything started to make sense. When she restored the program's data, she had told the computer not to add a romance with Lucy Davenport. She hadn't ruled out all romance. And the best way to ensure that Burleigh had no interest in the female protagonist was ...

"Wait, _Harry Kim_ was with you?" she thought aloud, interrupting her own musings.

"You intended for me to keep the program private?"

"Indeed, I would've preferred that. I probably should have been more clear, but ... nevermind. What's done is done. Let's just keep this between the three of us, alright?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Anyway, I wrote quite a few subroutines for testing purposes. Most holonovels have some scrapped content that the author never deleted from the file." It wasn't technically false. Another ripple went through Janeway's mind at how absurd it all was. Censoring her program like a teenager clearing their terminal's history, and for Seven of Nine of all people. To be fair, she had assumed Seven would lose interest in Lambda One a long time ago, but now she would have to fess up at some point.

"I was also wondering whether I am progressing through the program correctly," Seven said. "Burleigh's behaviour suggests sympathy, but I am aware that he is withholding information."

"He has his reasons. Knowing you, Seven, I'm sure you'll easily figure out what he's hiding, whether he tells you or not."

Seven's expression hardly changed, but the way her brows lifted ever-so-slightly higher made Janeway realize what she said had sounded more like a gratuitous compliment than she'd intended. Janeway had never struggled with social skills, but Seven had an odd way of making her second-guess herself, as if part of her wanted to play by the ex-Borg's conversational rules and not the other way around.

"And how about the rest of the program?" she asked, more to break the silence than anything else.

"The children are adapting, despite their antiquated background education, but they lack sufficient household authority for their allegience to be useful. And Mrs. Templeton does not attempt to conceal her mistrust. I have tried to demonstrate my trustworthiness, and rewound some of her interactive sequences to test the consequences of alternative actions, but she still responds antagonistically."

Janeway opened her mouth to explain that this was because the housekeeper was, in fact, an antagonist, and that Seven could save her energy trying to get on her good side, but a sudden inkling led her to say something else.

"You seem especially interested in her."

"I admire her efficiency."

Had Janeway heard, or only imagined, that hint of defensiveness in her voice? After those modifications, it'd be ironic if Seven was trying to ... no. Doubtful. Or just inappropriate to speculate, really, but hard not to.

The Doctor's social programs seemed rather heteronormative--not out of any kind of prejudice, she hoped, but she would definitely talk to him about that--and it was easy to see how one might find them unrelatable, seek out other things to compensate. Janeway herself hadn't assumed one way or the other, but she hadn't consciously considered that Seven might be attracted to women. If she was, maybe it was better to know sooner rather than later. She could try to relate some of her own experiences, maybe, or ... 

Nope. Janeway stifled an unworthy thought before it fully formed, chastising herself for the slight heat rising to her cheeks.

But wasn't this jumping ahead? Janeway's hologram was cold and uninviting by design, and all Seven said was that she admired her efficiency...and damn, that was like something a horny Vulcan in denial would say. A Vulcan, or a Borg. Anyway, whether or not there was anything more to it, Seven seemed to have overlooked the program's intended purpose of immersion in favour of 'playing to win,' so seeking powerful allies was only rational. It was enough to make up Janeway's mind.

"Mrs. Templeton also has her reasons for being slow to trust," she said. "Don't agonize over it too much. Just keep acting the way you see fit, and you'll come to an understanding eventually."

That wasn't true, yet, but she could make it so--if the computer hadn't seen to it already. No major modifications, not like what she did to Burleigh, just something to add the interactive complexity that all the characters probably should've had in the first place if Lambda One had any semblance of an attempt at creditable literature. Just one more modification.

This was assuming the anaphasic radiation really did turn out to be a false positive, of course. If not, they'd have a real ghost story to worry about.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mostly exposition chapter, since this is shaping up to be wayyy longer than I thought. I have like 2 chapters worth of janeway and seven's holodeck escapade written for later, though.

The Doctor looked up from his desk. He had four visitors: Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, two security guards, and Gerron, an introverted Bajoran youth who had struggled more than most of his fellow ex-Maquis to adapt to Starfleet regulations, but was now well-settled in his position as acting ensign. Tom Paris was also present, on duty as a medical technician. He looked up from his maintenance of a bio-bed, intrigued, but a stern look from the Doctor as he rose to meet his guests got the lieutenant back to work.

"Ah, Lieutenant Commander," the Doctor said, taking in the sight of the Security Chief and two guards eyeing their detainee suspiciously, phasers attached to their belts. "If you're looking for the Brig, you're about ten decks off. This is Sickbay."

Tuvok responded with a raised eyebrow which most would read as scornful, but the Doctor suspected was as amicable a gesture as the Vulcan would ever afford a fellow crew member.

"Ensign Gerron has been psychologically manipulated by an anaphasic lifeform," Tuvok said dryly. "We are here as a precaution, as the lifeform induced a motivation to sabotage the ship."

The Doctor grimaced. "Sabotage the ship? You mean the same lifeform that's been stowed away for a week? Do we know where it is?"

"The security situation is under control, Doctor. We believe Mr. Gerron to be mentally sound at present, but he should be tested for any remaining alien influence, and will require a full psychological examination to be declared fit for duty." 

The Doctor addressed his patient, as was only customary. "Well, Mr. Gerron, do you consider yourself to be mentally sound?"

The ensign glowered, seeming to dislike the question, but answered plainly. "Yes."

"Sit over here," the Doctor replied, gesturing to one of the many vacant beds. "Tricorder, if you please, Mr. Paris." As he began scanning around the circumference of Gerron's head, taking careful note of the readings, the Doctor realized that Tuvok hadn't moved from his peripheral vision.

"Was there something else?"

"The captain will be arriving shortly. She has been studying the lifeform's remains, and believes they could aid your efforts to inoculate the crew against further attacks."

The doctor looked at him, puzzled. "Remains?"

"I killed it," Gerron blurted out, then seemed to retract into himself as all eyes fixed on him. "I had to," he added defensively. "It would've convinced me to blow up the ship."

The Doctor found Gerron's demeanour perplexing. He was putting considerable effort into maintaining composure, and there seemed to be enormous depth of feeling behind the sullen facade. But an assessment of his physical condition took priority.

"There seems to be a story here," the Doctor said, returning to the scan, "and I'd like all the details later, but I must complete these scans first. If you'll excuse me."

Tuvok left Sick Bay, and when it became clear that the two security guards would remain, the Doctor gave a quiet sigh and concentrated fully on his readings. Everything was normal as far as the tricorder could tell.

The door opened again. Captain Janeway came in, holding a padd in one hand, and a protective canister in the other. The canister contained some kind of gel, inanimate and only partially visible. The matter itself seemed opaque, somehow, but it was as if the whole object were a semi-transparent image superimposed on the Doctor's visual subroutines. Janeway placed the canister and the padd on a table.

"Good morning, Doctor. Ensign," she said, nodding at both of them, though she was using the crisp tone that said she had been overexerting herself, probably wholly absorbed in some task, and her mind wasn't quite ready to disengage. Voyager's period of uneventful calm was definitely over. "I hope I'm not interrupting your work," she added.

"Not at all, Captain. I've just finished this scan." He cocked his head towards the canister. "I presume that's our anaphasic intruder."

"Indeed. And a report on all I've observed about it myself, although I'm a little out of my depth." She lowered her voice. "As Tuvok might have mentioned, I want you to keep looking for ways to inoculate the crew. We think it's possible that the lifeform reproduced."

Reproduced? That sounded like a sensitive topic. Engaging all his protocols for professionalism and bedside manner, the Doctor looked from the captain, back to Gerron, who met his look with an unsuccessfully-stifled scowl.

"It's not what you think, Doctor," Janeway said, having apparently noticed the protocols engaging. "Any kind of strong mental bond with this species can produce an offspring. A spiritual bond, in this case. Mr. Gerron, would you be willing to tell the Doctor what you told me?"

The ensign swiped a hand across his forehead with an exasperated groan.

"You might as well, since it will come up in your psychological testing sooner or later," the Doctor said chidingly, remarking to himself that this young man's behaviour could only mean he was either singularly irreverent, or so harrowed by his recent experience that even the Captain could no longer frighten him. He was not sure which was worse, but the ensign seemed to acquiesce.

"It started a couple days ago, when I was hearing voices," Gerron began. "They sounded like random people I've met, back home and on Voyager. That's how the Prophets speak." His gaze turned to his knees, away from the captain and doctor. "The Prophets are everything to my people. If you believe, even suspect, that they spoke to you, disobeying them is ... it's unthinkable. Even if they want you to cause a warp core breach."

"But you didn't cause a warp core breach," the Doctor chimed in. "You defended yourself instead. What made you realize?"

Gerron shuddered. "I never did realize. When it finally sunk in that a Prophet wouldn't ask me to destroy Voyager, I thought it was a Pah-Wraith trying to deceive me, instead."

"Pah-Wraith?" the Doctor inquired, awkwardly enunciating the unfamiliar term.

"It's ... as far as you need to know, more Bajoran 'superstition.' A bad guy." He rested his face in his hands, speaking through his fingers with a distinct tremor in his voice. "I knew it needed to be stopped, but it still felt like I killed a Prophet. I couldn't see it for what it really was until it was dead. It had this ... this unbreakable hold over what I was willing to believe."

The Doctor paused for a moment, processing the new information before he spoke.

"If that's the case, we're lucky that 'bad guys' are included in your belief system. I wouldn't bet on a second incident ending the same way."

He leaned in closer to Gerron's ear, as the ensign's face was still hidden and he gave no sign that he was paying attention. "If you'll agree to a more extensive scan of your brain wave patterns, I'd like to check for residual effects of the mental link. If there are any, I doubt they would be noticeable to you, but the--"

"Alright. I'll do it," Gerron cut in. The Doctor stood straight with a mildly offended shrug, then turned to Janeway.

"If you'll allow me, Captain, I'd like to run that scan before I have a look at the lifeform. Any neurological imprint would be fading as we speak, and the results could speed my search for preventative measures."

"Do whatever you think is best, Doctor. Keep me posted." She was already on her way out of Sickbay. The Doctor hoped putting matters into his hands would allow her some much-needed downtime.


	6. Chapter 6

"Captain, long range sensors are back on line. They are picking up a Class-M planet with four moons, at 0.3 light years and closing, bearing 107 mark 15," Tuvok announced from his tactical post.

Janeway straightened in her seat. Their current course would pass within visual range momentarily. "Life signs?"

"Readings indicate no animal lifeforms, or indications of advanced technology. There are, however, dilithium deposits in two of the moons."

This would be a godsend, considering the way Voyager had been taxed in the past couple of weeks.

First, the sensor sweeps for anaphasic radiation had been a huge power sink. Then, after the original lifeform was killed by Ensign Gerron, the Doctor successfully inoculated the crew against a potential offspring. But there were two shortcomings: one, the compound was very costly to synthesize, and two, it couldn't be used on the bioneural gel packs.

After a week of relative normalcy when everyone was just about to conclude the lifeform hadn't reproduced, ship systems began to misbehave, and the search for anaphasic life signs began anew.

Now, Voyager was gradually going insane, for lack of a better description. Emergency protocols engaged on their own, diagnostics reported false positives and some restricted systems even stopped recognizing the proper command codes. Janeway had to shut down all non-essential functions, and virtually rewrite safety regulations from the ground up so as to rely on automated systems as little as possible. But the new lifeform still eluded everyone, and the ship's deteriorating condition made it even harder to look for it.

"The planet's approaching visual range," Paris said, looking up at the viewscreen from his helm controls in anticipation, though nothing could be seen without an enhanced image.

"On screen. Maximum magnification."

It looked remarkably like Earth. A bit too much.

Janeway tapped her combadge. "Bridge to Torres. Could you verify our sensor readings, make sure there's really a Class-M planet in the vicinity?"

"Yes, Captain. It'll take a few minutes."

"Acknowledged."

Janeway stood up, regarding the rest of the Bridge judiciously. She wasn't the only one who felt this planet was too good to be true. Most of the senior officers were focused on their consoles, eyes downcast in conscious suppression of hopefulness. Janeway wished she could go over the Chief Engineer's findings with her, but with half the turbolifts off line, the trip to Main Engineering would take three times as long as the diagnostic.

Janeway's communicator chirped, sooner than expected, and there was urgency in the engineer's voice.

"Torres to the Bridge. Captain, I'm detecting anaphasic radiation coming from Deck 10, down towards Engineering."

Janeway rounded on the Chief of Security. "Tuvok, get a security team down there. Go to Yellow Alert. Can you erect a forcefield, B'Elanna? Try to trap it?"

"I'm trying, Captain." A throaty sound of exasperation could be heard over the communicator. "I can't. It's locked me out again."

"Keep trying. I'll see if I can override it with my own command codes. Chakotay, you have the Bridge." This was not a new charade, and when Chakotay nodded at her, she could tell they both knew that she and Tuvok would be too slow to catch the lifeform in whatever mischief it was up to.

After traversing half a dozen decks and Jeffries tubes in record time, Janeway staggered into Engineering breathless, sweat trickling beneath her uniform. Tuvok and his security team stood idle, while B'Elanna rested her face on her two fists against a console.

"B'Elanna, report."

"My controls are back," she said with bitter irony.

"Too late?"

"It's the usual story, Captain. The anaphasic trail disappeared, and the lifeform could be anywhere on the ship by now. Too big an area for forcefields."

"And the planet?"

"My diagnostic got corrupted, but sensors seem to be working again. Take a look at this." B'Elanna gestured to her console display, which bore a simple, dynamic map of the ship's vicinity. There were no planets anywhere.

Janeway gave a long sigh, leaning against the console beside the Chief Engineer in inadvertent mimicry of her posture. This was almost like hallucinating in Bothan space all over again. After all, what good did it do for the crew to trust their own senses, if they couldn't trust the ship's?

"You could check with Astrometrics on your way back," B'Elanna offered halfheartedly.

"I think I'll do just that," Janeway replied, though no part of her expected a different report. A brief hint of a smirk graced B'Elanna's features, but Janeway was too tired to take conscious note of it. She tapped her communicator. "Janeway to the Bridge. Stand down Yellow Alert. I'll be back soon."

\---

Seven was at her usual station in Astrometrics, back turned to Janeway as she walked in.

"Captain," she greeted without turning. Janeway couldn't have guessed how Seven knew it was her, since the computer hadn't managed to reliably locate a crew member in days. Seven was looking down at her console controls, but still maintained a dignified posture, from her narrow, even stance to the elegant incline of her bare neck and upper back.

Seven turned her head from the two star charts on her viewscreen, one static, while the other shifted incrementally. The ice-blue eyes took on an attentive quality that made Janeway feel strangely exposed.

"Is there something you require?"

Good question, Janeway thought. What she required was some assurance that there was, in fact, a way out of this mess, some last-minute epiphany to set things right, but why she expected to find it here was beyond her.

"I wanted to check your readings against what our long-range sensors picked up," she tried. "You don't see the class-M planet anymore, do you?"

"No. The anaphasic lifeform has altered most of the information added to our star charts in the past 60 hours. I am attempting to identify a predictable pattern in its falsifications."

"Do you have anything to report?"

"My efforts have been ... unsuccessful."

Those were not words Seven had to say often, and they seemed to be difficult to get out. Not out of pride--that was much too individualistic an emotion.

"Mine too, Seven," Janeway replied impulsively. The look she got in response was unexpected, a relaxing of features that seemed almost resigned.

One thing Seven and Janeway shared in spite of their differences was that they invested a huge part of their wellbeing in Voyager's smooth functioning, almost to an unreasonable degree. And Voyager was hardly functioning at all at the moment. Could Seven be seeking assurance too?

But then Janeway chastised herself to quit the psychoanalysis. Hard to read as she was at times, Seven was a crewmember like any other, so why couldn't she just take their interactions at face value, without ruminating on meanings and intentions whenever they spoke?

"Do you predict that Voyager will cease to function?" Seven asked.

Janeway raised both hands in a gesture she hoped was somehow more reassuring than a shrug. "It's bad, but we still have some last resorts at our disposal. A system-wide shutdown, for instance, to buy us some time."

Seven repeated what already loomed forebodingly at the fore of Janeway's mind. "Without any systems on-line, we would still be unable to track the lifeform. As I have stated in a prior briefing, species 462 requires a mental link to reproduce, but not to subsist, and its longevity surpasses the human lifespan. Moreover, the presence of life support capable of sustaining sentient beings may incentivize it to remain."

"That's why it's a last resort," Janeway replied more bitingly than she intended. She searched for some absent remark to get the conversation flowing again, but everything she could think of was charged with guilt. "It's ironic," she said. "After what happened with Ensign Gerron, I was convinced inoculation was the only way to protect the ship. But now that the ship itself is the lifeform's only victim ..."

"You believe it would have been more prudent to expose the crew to mental manipulation?"

Sometimes things sounded the most terrible in the least emotive terms.

"Possibly. If the lifeform attacked crewmembers one by one, it would be easier to control. But I think, given the information I had at the time, I made the right decision."

"I fail to understand how the action with a higher probability of destroying Voyager, which would result in the largest possible loss of life, can be 'right.'"

There wasn't exactly ample time for rhetorical sparring, but Janeway took the bait.

"My duty to the ship and crew isn't just to ensure the greatest good for the greatest number. Sometimes duty contradicts that, in fact. There are things that I simply can't do, as a rule. Deliberately allowing a lifeform to invade the minds of my crew is one of them."

"I thought that the ethical guidelines to which you adhere were formulated in the interest of ensuring the crew's safety. If following them achieves the opposite result, then they are faulty."

Seven would've been *that* student in Starfleet ethics seminars, Janeway decided. The one with a 'question' that was really a statement for every point in every lecture. But for once, Janeway welcomed that dynamic. It reminded her of the time before this anaphasic mess started, when her only sources of anxiety were going stir-crazy at just how quiet things were--damn, what a thought--and Seven's untimely discovery of her holodeck fantasy.

The holodeck ... it was off-limits, of course, since the lifeform could make it quite perilous. Any holographic programs were at risk of ... Wait a minute.

"Seven." Janeway tried to school the latent excitement from her voice. "You said Species 462 is attracted to superstitious cultures, people who believe in the supernatural."

"I did."

"And this works with artificial intelligence, holographic simulations? Not just organic consciousness?"

"The Borg have no memories of such occurrences. However, we know that the lifeform is capable of manipulating the ship's computer, including the holo-imaging system."

It was immensely gratifying to see Seven's ocular implant lift with a quirk of her brow, showing she caught onto Janeway's train of thought. "Do you intend to lure it?"

"Something like that. What would you say about joining me in Lambda One?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: crack really begins here. also blood gets mentioned (mildly) in this chapter.

_We control simulations,_ Janeway had told Seven what seemed like centuries ago. _I can always say 'Computer, end program' and go back to being a starship captain._ Wise words, except when they were false.

"Computer, end program."

"Unable to comply."

"Why not?"

"Invalid authorization for holodeck controls."

"Computer, freeze program."

"Unable to comply."

Janeway didn't know what she had expected. The anaphasic lifeform probably wouldn't take a frozen program as bait, anyway, but she wanted to see if she had that option if things went badly. Evidently, she did not.

"Computer, what is the status of holodeck safeties?"

The computer's only response was an offended blip.

Seven apparently didn't feel like waiting for Janeway to coax the computer. She turned to young Beatrice, who was busy with her embroidery on the drawing room sofa. Wordlessly, Seven took Beatrice's sewing needle and pricked herself with it. The drop of blood beading on her fingertip was answer enough.

Beatrice was not quite so calm about it. She shot out of her seat.

"Bridgett! Why did you do that?"

Janeway felt a sudden lurch in her stomach. Seven was Bridgett, a servant. Of course, that meant Janeway would reprise her role of Lucille Davenport, the protagonist, after a four-year hiatus--probably assigned to her by default. She was playing Seven's game, now.

"I'll tell Mrs. Templeton," the child added with a menacing glare.

"I was engaging in a scientific experiment. I do not think Mrs. Templeton would object," Seven replied calmly.

Beatrice went from horrified to fascinated in a blink. "I didn't know maidservants did experiments. Is it biochemistry? Is it about blood coagulation? Can I try?"

Her technical vocabulary seemed to have advanced somewhat since Janeway last saw her.

"No, you may not," Janeway said sternly. Beatrice trusted her implicitly as the manor's governess. Perhaps she would help them locate the lifeform.

"Beatrice," Janeway said, stooping to meet her eyes, "Have you seen your mother today?"

Beatrice stood straighter, clearly not used to adults acknowledging the ghostly figure that was so real to her. "I did, Miss. She was on the stairs to the fourth floor."

Janeway nodded to Seven surrepititiously. The fourth floor it was.

They both knew Lord Burleigh's 'secret'--that his late wife haunted the manor--and were certain that the anaphasic lifeform's instinct would be to take up the role of the ghost. The plan was simple: wait for it to materialize, then phaser it. On stun, if things were going smoothly, but only if.

Janeway absently thanked Beatrice and dismissed her, not looking as the girl left the drawing room with a skip to her step, and someone else appeared in the doorway.

"Lucille. You're back."

Turning to regard the statuesque figure crossing the drawing room, Janeway found that Mrs. Templeton's presence still put her on edge. She did her best to convince herself that this was because of their skirmish four years ago, not because of some unfounded concern for Seven's privacy.

"I thought your leave would be at least a fortnight," Templeton added, with an unspoken 'not that I'm complaining' that Janeway could have sworn was somewhere between the lines. Templeton seemed to have no qualms about using Davenport's given name, so it would be rational to address her the same way. But Janeway didn't know her given name, because she had never given her one.

"It's a long story," Janeway managed, then winced internally at the shakiness of her voice. She inadvertently glanced at Seven, as if she could absorb what her accomplice knew about the current state of the program.

Templeton followed her gaze, then looked back to Janeway in apparent recognition. Of what, Janeway sensed she was about to find out.

"Bridgett, you may attend to your other duties," she said to Seven. "Mrs. Davenport and I have something to discuss. In private."

The computer hadn't altered Mrs. Templeton in any immediately obvious way. She had the same icy poise, which rarely betrayed any emotion beyond a few choice varieties of disdain. It seemed incompatible with her subroutines for anything even remotely resembling lust to grace those austere features ... and yet, there it was, in the slick precision with which she enunciated those last two words, and the way her eyes darkened conspiratorially. There was no shadow of doubt.

Janeway gulped. Okay, maybe a small, tiny, minuscule part of her mind had expected this, but it felt weird to know her own modification had enabled it. Not as weird as having to pick up where an unexpectedly-adventurous Seven left off, however.

She considered simply bolting out of the room--they were in a hurry, after all--but with holodeck controls and safeties disabled in a now-unfamiliar program, one could not afford to risk a diplomatic incident. Words escaped Janeway's mouth spontaneously as her undercover experience with pre-warp societies began to assert itself.

"Actually, Bridgett here was feeling ill. I was going to escort her in case she grew faint on her way to quarters."

Templeton seemed unruffled as her eyes left Janeway's to examine Seven again. Janeway hoped Seven was at least trying to act the part.

"Shall I send for the doctor?"

"Er ... no, I don't think that will be necessary," Janeway stammered. "You see--"

"I am functioning suboptimally," Seven interjected. "This is not a front for adulterous copulation."

Well then. Janeway knew how spectacularly she had failed to hide her shock this time. 'Bridgett' wasn't the only one feeling faint.

Somehow, Templeton did not pull a comically-large kitchen knife on Seven. Instead she laughed. That was something else Janeway would have figured was incompatible with the housekeeper's subroutines, but her laugh was as genuine as any flesh-and-blood person's, brightening her countenance.

"Bridgett, as admirable an effort as that was, you do not seem suited to Lucille's ... direct manner of speaking," she teased, then became more serious as she met Janeway's eyes. "No such suspicion crossed my mind." Her sincerity was so disarming that Janeway briefly lost focus, letting her mind stray.

This liaison was ... unconventional, to say the least, although there was no better word to describe Seven herself. But there would be some logical reason for it. Some scheme. Seven was just like that. After all, she had practically begged for a way into Templeton's good graces, when she could have easily produced a character with similar parameters, physical or mental, in her own program. Why?

"Carry on," Templeton said, addressing Seven and Janeway together, with her aloof air of command back as quickly as it had gone. Janeway reminded herself scornfully that this was a fictional character, not a starship captain, and hardly a fair target for the unpleasant emotion Janeway wouldn't degrade herself by naming.

What mattered was that the way was clear to the fourth floor, where the anaphasic lifeform would probably arrive within the hour. She turned to go with a silent sigh of relief, which Templeton's voice interrupted halfway.

"And be cautious on the upper floors. This is no ordinary storm." She inclined her head towards the window.

When Janeway looked, she put the awkward scene behind her impassively. It had been a drop in a comprehensive ocean of trouble.

Outside, the sky darkened with unnatural abruptness. It became a surreal sky, unlike any planet's atmosphere Janeway had seen, full of fast-moving, striated clouds of black and silver, intermittently slashed with greenish lightning. Inside, a small but undeniable tremor ran beneath the tiled floor and jostled the chandeliers, putting out the lights in the drawing room. This lifeform had a flair for dramatic entrances. It was ahead of schedule.

Janeway and Seven left the drawing room and headed for the stairs, their pace reaching a full run by the time Templeton disappeared through a side door with nearly equal haste.


	8. Chapter 8

Seven watched as Janeway tried the heavy wood door to fourth floor corridor a second time. It would not budge.

A real door of equal parameters could be broken with Borg-enhanced strength, but Seven knew Lambda One well enough to see that the lifeform had locked this door in an impenetrable, primitive state, probably intended to conserve memory when nobody was nearby. The door would not open without something to remind the computer that it should be interacted with. Such as a key.

Janeway most likely knew this as the holonovel's developer, but she had not loosened her grip on the doorknob.

"This door requires a key from Lord Burleigh's quarters," Seven prodded.

Janeway released the door in exasperation, and they were descending the stairs again. Servants crossed the lower landings now, rushing from hallway to hallway, probably preparing for whatever calamity they associated with the storm outside. Templeton's voice could be heard indistinctly as she ordered them to their posts.

Burleigh's quarters were on the third floor. They were empty, with both the door and the window open, curtains billowing over a writing desk with a candle recently extinguished by the wind. Seven and Janeway entered.

The door slammed behind them. From what Seven knew of aerodynamics, this could have occurred naturally from the gale that blew through the window.

But then the candle lit spontaneously. Like a signal, this was followed by a bolt of green lightning that set the curtains, wall and desk ablaze, the flash of light and theatrical pyrotechnics threatening to overload Seven's ocular implant. The captain immediately tried to smother the fire with bed curtains, an effort that the program failed to acknowledge.

Seven gave the doorknob a twist--locked, as expected from such scenes in paranormal fiction. She briefly appraised the door, then dealt it a vicious kick that sent it flying from its frame into the hallway, splintering down the middle and leaving a sizeable dent in the opposite wall. Evidently, this door had not been in a primitive state. Seven and Janeway leapt through the doorway to a safe distance before the flames consumed the room entirely.

Janeway touched a wall to gauge the heat, then leaned against it, breathless. "Are you injured?" Seven demanded, without waiting for a response before she scanned Janeway up and down with her tricorder. "The smoke you inhaled could be deleterious."

"Seven, I'm fine," Janeway said raggedly, gently grabbing the hand with the tricorder and lowering it to Seven's side. "I've sustained much worse."

For a lengthy moment they stood without speaking, Seven doing her best to scan Janeway's condition with her eyes if not with the tricorder. Once Janeway had caught her breath, she gave Seven a measuring look, then sighed heavily, shaking her head at the floor.

"There's something you need to know about this program, Seven."

Seven looked at her, attentive, with no particular guess as to what she meant.

"Not everything you see here is my own design. A big part of it was generated by the computer."

"I suspected this was the case," Seven replied matter-of-factly.

Janeway sighed again. Her emotions were unclear.

"What gave it away?"

"I know that many holonovels are computer-generated to save time, or to limit the author's knowledge of the program. I have found that the errors in Lambda One can be divided into two distinct categories, one including your own oversights, and the other, errors in a separate algorithm, probably a pseudorandom generator for certain environmental and character subroutines."

"Right you are. But what I really wanted to tell you was that I originally wrote the whole story myself."

"You modified it at a later date?"

"When I learned you were using it, to be exact. My biggest changes were to Lord Burleigh, but the computer altered just about everything along with him. All the characters were affected, not to mention the plot."

Seven was unruffled by that. She had already been aware that any information she gained from Lambda One could have as easily originated with the computer as with a human--with this human. That was one reason she hadn't been quite as adventurous with the program as Janeway appeared to believe.

"What was the purpose of your modification?" Seven asked with honest curiosity.

"What indeed. It seems so ridiculous, after all that's happened." Janeway was still slumped against the wall, eyes downcast. "I wrote Lord Burleigh as a romantic interest. It just seemed inappropriate to leave that for you to find, knowing I'd written it, so I removed it. The computer's modifications were mostly to clean up the aftermath."

Seven raised her eyebrows. This was significant information, with 'a good side and a bad side,' as people sometimes said. On the one hand, it meant Seven and Janeway had used Lambda One for a similar purpose, albeit accidentally. That Lord Burleigh held a command position was another similarity. On the other ...

"You were ashamed. Captain, should I also be ashamed? Our roles have been reversed, as I have used the program for the same purpose that you intended to hide from me."

Janeway looked up from her shoes with an expression Seven could not precisely identify. Not a basic emotion, perhaps pity, or regret.

"No, Seven, there's nothing for you to be ashamed of. Try to understand. I wrote this program long before you came to Voyager, when I still missed my home, and felt responsible for inflicting that pain on the rest of the crew. Holodeck programs were how I distracted myself. Things have changed a great deal since then."

"You are ashamed of the program by association with your psychological state when you wrote it, then."

"Not exactly. But as the captain, I'm often required to keep emotional vulnerabilities private, and would rather not leave evidence of them for a crewmember to find. Especially not you, Seven. You're adapting well, so much better than I was. You're using the program to learn about humanity. It isn't the same purpose."

Technically, Seven had been paid a high compliment, but she hardly noticed as the captain's obvious dejection diminished it somewhat.

"It is favourable that you are not 'exactly' ashamed," she said. "But did you not consider romantic relations with Burleigh to be an inappropriate use of the holodeck?"

"No, and believe me, it's the most popular use of the holodeck."

Janeway chuckled mirthlessly, as though the thought would ordinarily amuse her, but not under these circumstances.

"Of course, you shouldn't share something that private with a junior officer, and I let you discover it entirely by accident. But what was really inappropriate was not telling you so from the start. I made a mess of everything behind your back, and now I don't know my own program well enough to save Voyager."

If guilt typically provoked these sorts of thought processes, it was a burdensome emotion indeed. Seven wondered how Janeway had continued to function in the past few years if she took full responsibility for Voyager's plight. Perhaps Tuvok had helped. Dispassionate Vulcan reasoning had a way of bringing guilt's unproductive nature to light. Seven tried to offer something similar.

"Before the anaphasic lifeform came aboard, all chances of your modifications to Lambda One becoming a danger to Voyager were infinitesmal. It would have been unreasonable to expect you to have anticipated them, or to hold you responsible for Voyager's probable destruction."

"Maybe. But I still did the wrong thing by deceiving you. I'm sorry, Seven."

Seven was still not entirely sure what she would be forgiving, if she forgave her, so she decided on the most noncommital response from the Doctor's lessons instead. But she wanted some means to add sincerity to it, as the captain's physical condition was already suboptimal, and for her mental condition to mirror it would be ... even less optimal.

Seven decided to mimic a gesture that the captain herself employed all the time. She placed her hand against Janeway's upper arm, just at the insertion of the deltoid muscle, and held it there firmly as she spoke.

"Apology accepted, Captain."

Janeway first appeared midly surprised by the gesture, but then smiled radiantly in response. She pushed herself upright from the wall, straightening her uniform and regaining her usual air of command with remarkable efficacy. Seven had been successful.

"Now, I'm open to suggestions," Janeway said. "What the hell are we going to do without that key?"

Seven considered. Her meticulous testing had revealed several technical oversights which allowed her to access unused areas, pass through specific sections of wall or floor. Nothing that would take them through the ceiling on the third floor, though, or the wall between the stairway landing and fourth floor corridor. But maybe ...

"Captain," she said, "I have a suggestion. If you have read my reports, you are aware of the many errors in the program's physical subroutines."

"Let's just say you'll have to remind me," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching almost imperceptibly. Seven suspected she had not, in fact, read them.

"There is one such error, which allows us to breach the manor's walls without loading the exterior environment. I believe we could reach the fourth floor through the empty space outside, as it lacks gravity and other impediments."

The twitch at the corner of Janeway's mouth became a hesitant smile. "Seven, if this works, I'll never ignore your bug reports again. I suppose you're about to tell me how you found this 'feature' without holodeck controls?"

"Several of the manor's wardrobes are missing interior forcefields, though they appear solid. As a power conservation measure, the wall behind any solid furniture also lacks a forcefield."

"Ah, I see. So there's a wardrobe that will take us to the abyss."

"The one in Clarise's quarters is adequate."

Seven deduced from the captain's questioning look that one of the computer's modifications had been to give Mrs. Templeton a first name. Then, probably making the same deduction herself, Janeway didn't ask.

"Right. To the second floor, then." She set a quick pace despite her suboptimal condition, but it would still take a few minutes to reach their destination on the opposite side of the manor.

"You did not intend for her to form an intimate relationship with the protagonist," Seven pointed out. "Most likely an adversarial one, instead."

"Right. Actually, I'd meant to tell you just now. You could only be enemies before, but I modified that because it seemed to bother you. Although of course I didn't make a point of allowing ... you know."

The awkward way Janeway's voice trailed off, and the fact that she delayed bringing up this topic, probably meant she was uncomfortable. Seven decided not to press the matter, remaining silent.

"But the original author's intention isn't everything," Janeway continued. "It's all equally make-believe, isn't it?"

Seven thought about that. It was taking her considerable time to understand the relevance of fiction. Fiction was, by definition, factually uninformative. No fictional story was an accurate description of reality, so all stories were false, strictly speaking. But something had to explain why humans invested so much mental and technological energy in them. After all, even Janeway, who dedicated her life to space exploration and all the real, concrete novelties it involved, still found the practice worthwhile.

If not as a source of knowledge, perhaps humans valued fiction as a means of communication. Even a single story could excite myriad mental states in the audience, from the full spectrum of emotions, to desires, to questions of ethics, axiological value or even knowledge itself. The purpose derived from a work of fiction was highly individual. Seven and Janeway had apparently derived different purposes from the same kind of pretend relationship, in the same setting.

Janeway's voice, low and surrepititious, halted that train of thought. "About Clarise. I know I shouldn't be asking, but ..."

"We did not copulate," Seven answered, because she knew that was the only question on the subject that Janeway would hesitate to ask.

She covered a few paces before noticing that Janeway had stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, and Seven slowed her descent of the stairs to let her take the lead again. Seven couldn't imagine her response to the opposite statement being much different, so it was probably the directness that caught her off guard, although Seven figured that by now, Janeway would have expected that too. Or perhaps Janeway found the answer inconsistent with what she had observed on the ground floor. Seven decided to clarify.

"When the act is imminent, I render myself invisible to the program so that intimate relations may commence with a holographic copy of Lucille Davenport."

Janeway apparently considered that far more obscene than the alternatives. She shot another stare back at Seven, face aghast, both hands gripping the banister as if the information made her unsteady on her feet. As she quickly relaxed, though, her demeanour became more curious than shocked.

"You watched?" she whispered in the same tone she used to discuss scientific oddities in Astrometrics or Main Engineering. Seven nodded. "But ... Why?"

Seven had various reasons, from her inexperience and difficulty playing a fictional role, to the fact that her primary goal in pursuing the romance did not require direct participation. She weighed them in her mind, trying to formulate an abstract, impersonal rationale for her actions, but came up empty.

She decided to divert the topic. Janeway sometimes underestimated Seven's conversational prowess, and would take the sleight of hand for granted.

"Captain, on the subject of Lord Burleigh. I should not be asking, but ..."

Seven paused, expecting Janeway to cut her off. After a few seconds' silence, she was forced to finish the question instead.

" ... Did you copulate?"

Janeway rested her face in her palm, and answered with cold emphasis.

"No."

"Did you employ a holographic copy instead?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

Shaking herself incredulously, Janeway returned her gaze decisively to the path ahead, quickening the pace. "You know what? Let's just get to that wardrobe. We can discuss it when Voyager's ghost-free."


	9. Chapter 9

As soon as Janeway slipped through the back of the wardrobe and through the manor wall, gravity disengaged, and she floated to join Seven at a nearby windowsill. It was rather like spacewalking, strangely exposing without an EV suit. This off-limits exterior was a void darker than space and every bit as quiet. 

The majority of the outer wall seemed invisible. Of course, all Janeway could really see from right outside was what she'd already seen--Mrs. Templeton's pristine quarters, and a bit of the third floor hallway above. But she imagined that if she did say 'screw it all' and launched herself back from the windowsill, what she would see would be intriguing enough, a cross-section of all five stories, inhabitants traversing the halls or sitting in their chambers unawares--like the more colourful starship diagrams, made for popular museums or children's books.

"Too bad there's no vantage point, or we could check for reinforcements," Janeway said idly to no one in particular.

Then, she was--gently, but no less alarmingly--pulled from her foothold by the back of her uniform, back into the pitch-darkness with nothing to break her coast into holographic oblivion ... actually, there was something, rustling as she lightly collided with it. Leaves and twigs.

"Seven!" Janeway began her reprimand in a harsh whisper--why she was whispering, she had no clue, probably just because it was dark and silent--and wrapped her limbs around a branch like a wary animal. "If you have directions, use your words. Don't just drag your senior officer like a ragdoll."

"Without visible light, 'using my words' to direct you to the tree's location would leave you too prone to error. We require my eidetic memory to navigate this far from the manor wall."

Come to think of it, a torch would have been useful to bring, Janeway thought, but when you have a Borg's memories of cavorting through every cubic centimetre of your program, who needs a torch?

"You could at least ask," Janeway replied dryly.

"Very well. May I drag you to a more informative vantage point?"

"Please do. But not by the uniform, alright? It seems undignified, somehow."

Janeway shivered by reflex as metal-tipped fingers brushed over her bicep to her elbow, then darted to the back of her hand, whose location had apparently been deduced through a bit of trial and error. She released her hand from the branch to grasp Seven's, then hesitantly let go with her limbs as well, allowing herself to be pulled up to a higher junction of branches. From there she looked back to the manor.

It was not quite what she had expected. Not all the outer walls were invisible, and light from the windows still illumined sharp-edged, unfinished-looking bits of moulding and balcony, as well as the odd tree or hedge close enough to be seen from inside the manor. Conversely, some exterior assets seemed to absorb all light, dark blotches against the lit interior. This was the cutting room floor of the program, a rough, ragtag patchwork of set pieces, shadows and invisible walls that resembled a run-down Borg cube more than a starship diagram.

There were plenty of fires besides the one in Burleigh's quarters. The servants were busy putting them out, or rather, doing the actions that would normally contribute at least somewhat to putting them out, but in this case did absolutely nothing--though none of them seemed discouraged by that. Except for ... yes, that was Templeton, and to make the charitable assumption that telepathically-induced hallucinations didn't count, it was the first time Janeway had seen her yell, gesticulate or otherwise visibly lose her temper. She turned her back on the servants and stormed off to a side exit, vanishing immediately as her imaging matrix was transferred to what the computer officially recognized as the manor's exterior. Well, hopefully they wouldn't be needing her for anything.

Janeway looked up to the fourth floor. There were no figures that she could see, only a sort of green, luminescent fog spread down the full length of exposed hall. That wasn't good.

"The lifeform has not materialized," Seven stated, an impassive echo of Janeway's thoughts that seemed loud enough to shatter glass in the dead-silence.

"I can see that, but ... why hasn't it? All the characters would believe this lifeform's a ghost. Surely it would try to take form and link with any number of them. Do you think it's because they're photonic? Maybe it knows it can't actually reproduce?"

"I do not think so. Species 462 seeks out individuals by the same mechanism as it does entire cultures. Were that mechanism indifferent to artificial consciousness, it would not have had any reason to come to Lambda One."

"Could it know that we're here?"

"Since our inoculations, it cannot sense our minds. Even my cortical node is too integrated with my organic brain to be registered as a conscious system on its own."

"But the lifeform is capable of some deduction. We've spoken to some of the holograms, so they're aware we're here. The lifeform can sense that, if not us. Maybe it's in the same position as we were. Knowing there's an intruder afoot, but powerless to track it down."

"If that theory is adequate, we must lead it to believe we are under its control, or that it has tracked us successfully."

"Make one of the holograms believe it, and the lifeform will follow. Seven, you probably know more about the characters' minds than I do. Which of them do you think the lifeform is paying closest attention to? The ones that it would choose for a mental link?"

"All of whom you refer to as 'major characters' have some strong emotional connection to the ghost. The children. Lord Burleigh. Mrs. Templeton, especially."

"Ah, I ... I see. But she just left. And I thought Burleigh was gay now. He had no romantic relationship with his wife, then?"

"No, but they maintained a platonic relationship, and I believe he experiences irrational guilt at being unable to return her romantic attraction."

"Good enough. I'll go look for Burleigh and the children. If I find anybody, I'll say that you left the manor, and stay in their sight so they know where I am. That way the lifeform may assume we're under control. You wait by the fourth floor, alright? Have your phaser ready."

"Yes, Captain." Seven sprang gracefully into the darkness, floating up to catch onto a balcony near the fourth floor window.

Janeway scanned the building intently. Glumly, she remembered that the children would probably be in the nursery, on the opposite side. Then she caught sight of Burleigh in the drawing room.

She kicked off of her perch with a more modest trajectory than Seven's, perpendicular to the wall to find solid footing as quickly as possible. She could see the third floor corridor close up. A few servants rounded a corner within, followed by a yellow-clad operations officer, who stopped to peer out the window quizzically for a moment before adjusting a setting on his tricorder.

Ensign Kim.

Just as he was starting to move on from the window, Janeway clambered over to it and knocked hard on the glass pane.

"Mr. Kim! Over here!"

Kim spun towards her, gripping the phaser holstered at his side, his face as white as his knuckles. This sort of reaction tended to bring out Janeway's sadistic sense of humour, but in this case, the gravity of Voyager's current predicament kept that at bay.

"You look like you've seen an anaphasic lifeform," she quipped anyway, hoping to snap him out of his petrified state.

He finally exhaled, lowering his hand from the phaser, and opened the window.

"Ah, Captain, I, uh. I've been looking all over for you. Comms went out almost as soon as you launched the program."

His surprise had quickly turned to relief, and he began to babble. "Tuvok sent me as your backup, since I'm familiar with Lambda One. Oh, and a couple security will be on their way if they don't hear from us soon. How are you even out there anyway? Where's Seven?"

"Seven's fine. Take a deep breath, Mr. Kim. Listen. The lifeform has locked itself away on the fourth floor. Seven and I can reach it from outside, but it's not going to materialize for any of us. We need a hologram to contact it from inside the manor, convince it to take shape. Then it will be vulnerable to an attack from out here. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Now, from what Seven tells me, Lord Burleigh is our best bet for that plan. He's in the drawing room downstairs. I was going to go retrieve him myself. But now that you're here, I think you should do it. You know him quite well by now, right?"

Kim was nodding obediently up until the last part, at which point he looked like a deer caught in the headlights again. He cleared his throat.

"Uhm ... more or less. I mean, yes I do. Sort of."

"There's no time for modesty, Ensign. We've all had our fun around here. Can you convince him to talk to the ghost, or not?"

Kim's cheeks coloured, and Janeway had to suppress another sadistic grin, but he answered promptly.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Go tell him that Mrs. Davenport and Bridgett have left the manor. You'll remember those names? Good. Take him to the fourth floor, try to get him and his wife talking. We'll be right outside the window. Dismissed."


	10. Chapter 10

Janeway and Seven gathered beside a fourth floor window, which was slightly ajar and fogged up with green ectoplasm. They floated there, suspended, anxiously awaiting Kim and Burleigh's arrival. Anxiously for Janeway, at least. Seven didn't seem perturbed.

Something about the whole day, this phantasmagoria of ridiculous holodeck escapades against the background of mortal danger to Voyager, made Janeway unsure how to feel or act at any given moment. Despite her anxiety, she found she could not only command her charges with ease, but also gossip and wisecrack given the opportunity, as inadvisable as that was. There was an opportunity now.

"So," Janeway said, "We have about ten minutes before they get here. You were going to tell me why you did what you did with Templeton."

"You were going to provide an analogous explanation regarding Lord Burleigh."

"I'll tell you if you tell me."

Seven paused a moment, seeming to begrudge the irrefutable fairness of that proposal.

"I thought that you considered this information too private to share with a junior officer," she tried. Good one, almost enough to make her backtrack, but Janeway decided to defend herself.

"Being in a life-and-death situation, not knowing which way it will end, has a way of making those considerations seem ... less significant."

"But Voyager is constantly susceptible to 'life-and-death situations.'"

Janeway didn't care to think too hard about what Seven was implying with that point, so she ignored it.

"Do you think this discusson's too private, Seven?"

"No."

"In that case ..."

"You first."

For Seven to use that turn of phrase, this couldn't have been her first juvenile secret-sharing session with a fellow officer. Janeway had to wonder who the crewmember was, and what were the secrets.

"Fine," Janeway acquiesced. "Not much happened with Lord Burleigh, beyond a typical early-stage romance, because I didn't feel like it. I was mostly just caught up in the genre, the setting, the emotions, and not looking to fulfill any physical needs. I don't even think I was particularly attracted to him."

"But you are heterosexual?"

Well, that escalated. Janeway had brought it on herself, she had to admit. She paused, knowing that if she answered too quickly her voice would break off into laughter at the absurdity of the present scene. Floating in the abyss, trapped in a broken holonovel, with Voyager coming to pieces outside. The perfect setting for an impromptu coming-out party as far as she and Seven were concerned. Maybe Kim could join them.

Janeway finally gathered herself, still glad her twitching mouth wasn't visible in the dark.

"No, I'm capable of attraction to all genders. That I know of." She was trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible, but wound up sounding more uncomfortable than she intended, or even really felt.

"But that's not relevant," she amended before Seven had a chance to stall by continuing this line of interrogation. "Why did you do that thing where you--" now, just as she thought she'd mastered herself, she was laughing harder than Seven had ever heard her laugh, despite all the iron-fisted willpower of Starfleet captaincy. "--where you summon this hologram, this clone, just to pass her on to Mrs. ... to ... oh God. Sorry, Seven." She gave up trying to form a coherent question. Seven got the point.

"Why are you exceedingly amused?"

"It's not you," Janeway said, managing to stifle any further outbursts for Seven's sake. "Or what you did. It's the fact that we're actually having this discussion. And in this place, at this time. It's just ..."

"Incongruous. I see. Juxtaposition is a common basis for humorous sentiment."

"Exactly. So, why?"

"Your question can be analysed as two separate queries. The first, why I chose to pursue a sexual relationship at all, and the second, why I did not directly participate. Which do you wish me to answer?"

"Both, of course." Seven was either stalling again, or had tried to learn conversational habits from ancient English philosophy books. Either way, Janeway knew she was in for a much longer answer than the one she had given. "Start with the first. I didn't think of that. What is it you like about her?"

"Mrs. Templeton's character parameters are adequate, but irrelevant. Although I admire her enough to consider her relationship with the protagonist a desirable outcome, this is not sufficient for me to pursue it over other relationships, as the holodeck allows me to design characters at will, even optimize their parameters for compatibility with my own personality profile. It is her role in the story of Lambda One that interests me instead. I have studied the concept of allegory, and concluded that experimenting with narrative plots and their character archetypes may aid in the ongoing discovery of my humanity."

Janeway hadn't seen that coming. She listened with genuine curiosity, letting the course of the conversation fall to Seven's jurisdiction.

"Templeton originally played the role of antagonist, as you said," Seven continued. "She holds a command position in the household, and her primary motivation is to fulfill the responsibilities therein. Lucille Davenport is a newcomer whose presence destabilizes the household and its regulations, challenging the command structure. This is the source of their antagonism. I found this situation intriguing, and ..."

Hold up. Was she saying what she seemed to be saying, or had Janeway just completely lost touch, no longer able to distinguish between projections and reality?

" ... wanted to test whether a romantic relationship, extended to the level of physicial intimacy, were compatible with this interpersonal dynamic."

No. It couldn't be. If Seven wanted something, she would just ask for it. She wouldn't co-opt your program into her own personal allegory and enlist a couple of venerable 19th-century holograms to act out her flattering, but undeniably inappropriate, plans for you. Right?

Then Janeway remembered that this lengthy defense was only meant to answer one of two questions. The second answer couldn't be any more troubling than the first, she decided, though she hoped it would be more concise.

"How about the second question? The reason you didn't do it yourself?"

"Lambda One is fiction, and Mrs. Templeton is in a relationship with Lucille Davenport, a fictional character. Not with me. Her inability to distinguish between each of us playing the role of Davenport illustrates this fact. I was concerned that experiencing the act of copulation through Davenport's perspective might make me feel otherwise, which would be a false impression. However, I do not believe I risk distorting my perception of human sexual intimacy by occasionally observing it, which I find ... informative."

Leave it to Seven to make 'informative' the most obscene word in a comprehensive discussion of holo-sex, Janeway thought. Although she had to wonder how informative it really was. Accounting for the setting, and Templeton's uptight nature, she'd either be the repressed older virgin type or into some really weird, kinky ... Stop it, Kathryn. Anyway, there was only one way to find out what Seven learned--no really. Stop. Right now.

There was a knock on a door from within the fourth floor, rescuing Janeway from any further self-humiliation by internal monologue.

"Justine, are you there?" Lord Burleigh's muffled voice could be heard from behind the door. "It's me, your husband. Let me speak with you, please."

This was it. Time to put Janeway's theory to the test.

A woman's voice responded, though the green fog showed no sign of taking shape.

"Why are you here?"

"To ask you to relent, to reconcile our differences. To beg your forgiveness."

"I cannot forgive you, husband. I loved you, and for all my devotion, my last memory before the end was of your infidelity. Of my foolishness for trusting you." The green fog roiled and twisted, forming loosely into basic shapes before fading back to anaphasic ectoplasm.

Burleigh's voice grew clearer. Was the door no longer sealed? "I was wrong to be unfaithful, and I am sorry beyond words. But Justine, I cared about you. I regretted our loveless marriage just as deeply as you did. Heavens know, I tried to fall in love with you. I even gave you two children. But not even God's grace could make me feel for you as you did for me. It is not in my nature, and never will be."

Janeway hadn't thought she would ever feel sorry for Lord Burleigh since she abandoned the program four years ago. Now he was pouring his soul out to the last subroutine. Surely that would be enough for this twisted lifeform, but it hadn't formed just yet, only swirling indistinctly into a vaguely humanoid shape.

"I beg of you, put an end to this chaos," he continued. "The children are frightened. If not for me, for them. Please, let me through the door. I cannot harm you, I trust that you will not harm me, and I wish to see you."

That did it. The lifeform became a humanoid, a human, a 19th-century woman in a ruffled skirt and crinoline, still green-tinged and luminescent but definitely as materialized as she would get. Janeway nodded to Seven. They drew their phasers.

Suddenly, the ghost rounded on them. A violent gust from outside blew them in through the broad window, and they rolled into the room, disarmed, scrambling to their feet.

"I was deceived once," she said coolly. "I will not be deceived again." Janeway supposed that Burleigh would think those words were for him, but they were certainly not.

Lightning struck from outside, and fire crept over the walls and carpet. Following standard protocol, Janeway dropped back to the floor, crawling on her belly in search of her phaser, but the flames spread at such an alarming rate that looking for any object on the floor was almost impossible. She gazed up at the door to the stairwell. A burn mark was spreading across it--Kim's phaser, no doubt--but would he carve it open in time?

She felt her own fingers grasp a phaser, grabbed it by the handle and leapt to her feet, firing at the lifeform. The phaser beam had no perceptible effect. Apparently, Ensign Gerron had used a much higher setting. Janeway thumbed the control, keeping her eyes fixed on the lifeform, and was just ready to fire a second time, when a staggering force from her left tackled her to the floor, knocking the wind out of her. From the corner of her eye, she saw another green bolt of lightning hit the door at the end of the room, passing through the precise location where she had been standing.

With the help of the lightning, Kim finally burned a hole in the door, and shot the lifeform with a sustained phaser blast. After a grisly five seconds, it disintegrated, its lifeless green residue congealing into an ectoplasmic puddle on the floor as the room began its own disintegration into charcoal and ash.

"Computer," Janeway yelled, "End program!"

Everything vanished in a blink. Janeway saw the bare walls of the holodeck, heard her pulse rush in her ears in counter-time with the methodical hum of the warp core as she caught her breath. She still felt something pressing on top of her. Janeway looked up to see Seven straddling her on hands and knees, one hand pinning her arm to the floor. How a tackle from her left side had turned into that in five seconds was anyone's guess. Like something out of a bad holonovel.

Bad, perhaps, but it had been a surprisingly engaging one.

Janeway heard the woosh of the holodeck arch, and a few hurried footsteps. She turned her head again to see Tuvok and four security guards skid to a halt next to Kim, who was kneeling a few metres from Janeway and Seven, still gripping the phaser. The remains of the anaphasic lifeform lay in between.

"I take it you have been successful," Tuvok said, eyes scanning the room judiciously from the lifeform, to Kim, and lingering a moment with a raised eyebrow on Seven and the Captain. "Am I interrupting anything?"

Of course he had to bring out his scarce Vulcan sarcasm now, just after Voyager was saved from the brink of madness and doom. Was nothing sacred?

Janeway fixed Seven with the best attempt at a stern glare she could manage in that compromising position. Seven got the message, and stood, clasping her hands behind her back. Janeway rose a little more gingerly after her. She grinned, despite her limbs aching in protest.

"Not at all, Tuvok. Just another story for the log."

Janeway looked to Seven, then to Kim. "Why don't both of you take a few days off? I'd say you've earned it."

"What about you, Captain?" Kim said, though he was nodding in gratitude.

"I just might. I don't know about you, but I know exactly where I'm *not* spending my time off for the near future." She gestured broadly to the room.

"Not even for your weekly Velocity tournament?"

"I think we'll call it off. Seven?"

Seven's eyebrow arched, a barely-perceptible smirk crept over her lips and Janeway could have sworn her eyes sparkled when they met each other's gaze.

"Agreed, Captain. There are other things we could do."


End file.
